Titanfall: Mercenary
by WilMorris
Summary: [Titanfall Short Story Collection] A collection of short stories about Wyman Rawlins, a member of the Frontier Militia's Mercenary Core. (Chapter 1 Intro, each chapter after self contained story, Wil.)
1. Introduction

The Frontier Militia have stood against the forward march of the IMC, costing may lives. To protect their homes many have joined the militia. Some even join to protect their own interests. Criminals and Mafioso lords are the underbelly of the organisation with rag-tag team of former military solders forming the top. But there is another group in the militia that act as the defenders iron fist. The Mercenary Core, an organised group of solders and able-bodied men that fill the ranks when the militia's number dwindle on the battlefield. These mercenaries don't fight for pride or to defend their home, they fight for money. In a war were corporations take hold, money is king.

Here are some stories about a man in the core, Wyman Rawlins.


	2. Young Blood

Wyman Rawlins is a distinguished member of the core. A traveller by nature, he prefers not to live in one place for to long. For the last few weeks has lived near Angel City. There are many battles, and therefore contracts, in the city limits so he has stayed out of necessity.

He sits sprawled on the one small seat in his room at the motel he is staying at and slowly sips on his beer and watching the news on a small, motel-sized television. Some bored respite between contracts, until his mobile rings with an e-mail offering a contract.

"About time," he grumbles to himself. Picking up his coat with one hand and answering the e-mail with the other, he leaves for work. Locking his motel door, he jogs to his car and prepares to leave. He phone rings again, another e-mail. "_Location: __Angel__City__, Zone 3_."

"MCOR, great…" He complains. Wyman dislikes the MCOR because they are more rag-tag then other groups. "On to the farmers with pitchforks," he continues as he starts his car and leaves.

Area 3 is a cordoned off section of Angel City, surrounded be gates, walls and checkpoints. As he arrives at the location, he sees the IMC drop-ships hovering in the sky. As Wyman leaves his car, a militia captain runs to meet Wyman.

"You the merc?" The captain inquires. Wyman responds with a nod. "Ok, your squad is over there, at point B. You'll get your equipment with them." The captain taps Wyman on the shoulder and runs to the other squad unit. Wyman jogs to the squad he has been assigned with and sees the people in the squad. "_Kids, barely teenagers_," he thinks to himself. As he hurriedly zips his body armour, the drop-ships move to drop altitude.

"Incoming!" Shouts the captain. "Positions, go, go, go!" Wyman picks up his 101C rifle and looks again at the people in his squad. He sees their sacred expressions on their young faces.

"Eyes open and stay near cover. I have no intention of being shot and neither should you." Just as Wyman finishes talking, the drop-ships swoop low, shaking the air with their thrusters. Wyman starts to jog in the direction the drop-ships where heading. His squad follows quickly behind.

Suddenly there is a cacophony of noise. Sounds of gunfire echo off the buildings. Wyman dashes towards a near by building and barges through the door, shattering the lock. He waits by the door as the rest squad follows quickly behind. He slams the door closed as the last member runs through.

"Not seen, not shot," he says aloud as he gestures down the corridor. They had barged into the main hallway for a block of flats, disused since the attacks at Angel City started. The sounds of gunfire are muffled by the building walls making the fight sound distant. Wyman jogs for the central stairway and starts to jump up the stairs.

After a few stories, Wyman walks down that floors corridor and picks an apartment door. In one swift kick, Wyman kicks the door open. The door swings open, slams against the apartment wall, and lets in a rush of noise. Wyman gestures to the apartment windows.

"I want eyes on the targets. You see someone, call it out." The squad dutifully follow and run for the windows. As soon as the squad gets to the window, one of them shouts;

"Found one!" The solder starts to fire erratically at his target and misses every shot.

"If you can't hit him, don't shoot and show your location," scolds Wyman.

"I could have hit him!" Retorts the solder. As he yells, bullets barrage his position. The solder falls to the floor screaming, blood flowing out of his arm and shoulder. Wyman sprints towards him but is stopped as an enemy solder jetpacks through the window, shattering it, propelling the glass across the room. The solder elbows Wyman across the face making him drop to the floor. He then points his shotgun at the rest of the squad. The squad freezes in place, almost resided to their fate. Wyman reacts, leaps from the floor, and flings himself at the solder and pulls him to the floor. The pair rolls over the floor, eventually stopping, with Wyman on top of the enemy. He pulls back to swing a punch but is kicked across the floor. The enemy razes his gun to shoot, but is stopped as one of the squad members fires a round through his head. The enemy slumps to the floor with the killing squad-mate frozen in place. Wyman turns to the wounded squad member, who is still screaming on the floor, and taps the communicator on the side of his helmet.

"Man down, need medic evac,"

"Negative, area to hot," responds the captain.

"Shit!" Shouts Wyman, letting got of the communicator. He reaches over and pulls a tablecloth off a near by table and wraps it tightly over the more severe of the solders wounds. "Take positions here. We're hunkering in," Shouts Wyman. He turns to the squad at sees them staring at him with a blank, frozen expression. He gets off the floor and walks to the squad. "I said take positions!" He shouts the crowd. "Move! Now!" The squad shakes to life and scatters across the room except for one.

"He's…" The solder quietly says with a quake in his voice.

"It was him or me." Wyman responds coldly as he taps the solder on the arm but the solder barely moves. Wyman points at the wounded solder. "Now, I want you to get all the towels from the bathroom," The solder slowly starts to move and jogs for the bathroom. Wyman returns to the wounded solder who has quieted down but still shows the pain.

The solder eventually returns lumbering half a dozen towels.

"Will these do?" He asks.

"They work well enough," Wyman responds has he starts tying the towels around the wounded solders bleeding arm. When he is done, Wyman turns to the solder sitting next to him. "Now, push down here and try to stop the blood flow. I need to check on the others," After a moment, the solder puts his hands on to wounded solders arm and pushes down. "Good, keep that up," Says Wyman as he jogs over to the other solders.

For the rest of the battle, the solder pushed down on his comrades are and did all could do. He could hear all kinds of shouting and gunfire all around him but all he could do was stare at his comrade lying on the floor in front of him. When the battle was over, medics came rushing to them and nudged him out of the way. The towels and the solders hands were soaked in blood. The solder looked on at the medics at work. After a few moments, it became clear at what the outcome was.

Wyman returned to his motel. He returned to his room and resumed watching his television and drinking his beer. Then there was a knock at his room door. He eases himself out of his seat and walks to the door. At the door was the solder from the battle with a sad expression on his face. Wyman waves the solder in to his room. The solder sits on the chair slumped over on his arms. Wyman picks up a beer from the box near the door and offers it to the solder. The solder takes it and begins to drink. Wyman walks to the bed, lays down and they both watch the television contemplating the events of the day.


End file.
